


Needles and Pins

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [629]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: Anonymous askedAnyway, I'm p sure you're the writer who likes "five things" fics? so how about: 5 Tracy brothers + tattoos? fri3nd xxx
Series: prompt ficlets [629]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/53353
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Needles and Pins

1) Scott’s been told all his life not to get a tattoo. His mother told him sadly, his father madly, whenever they saw some bright young thing in the media covered in ink. “Don’t you dare” was the message he received loud and clear.

But both are long gone and Scott misses them more than ever. He can’t sleep, pictures of her fingers slipping out of his gloved hand on repeat behind his eyes. He can’t fly _home_ , grounded after his asshole brother in his pristine space castle declared Scott over his flight hours and _emotionally compromised_ and grounded him right there.

The smell of dust in the air isn’t helping, for all they’re a hundred miles away from the site of the mudslide. Neither is the strain in his shoulder; turns out you really can’t punch a hologram.

They made TI to _help_ people and fourth mission out he’s already batting 75%. It didn’t bode well.

Scott walked the rain-slick streets, getting further and further from the fancy hotel John had organised with the plan for Scott to sleep it off. Booze had been acquired, and the remaining cash was burning a hole in his pocket.

The buzzing _open 24 hours_ sign caught his attention. 

It wasn’t just the sign that was buzzing. Scott watched the tattooist carefully etch the design into his skin, the single Roman numeral _one_ at the heart. There was room for more, many more.

Scott hoped like hell he’ll never need that much space.

2\. Most think it’s his style, and John lets them. After all, it’s true that he does like his long button downs, high collars, anything that hides his skin from sun and prying eyes alike.

His mother had promised to kill him, but that had been more enticement than threat at 16, and then she was gone and it felt more like daring her to come back to carry out her punishment.

He has big plans, strictly within regs if perhaps not entirely within the law.

The filigrees of wiring had hurt the most, itching for days before finally bedding into his skin. Compared to that, the ink gun had been a piece of cake as it had needled whorls and lines into too-pale skin. 

His entire back was a circuit now, the connections slowly wending down his arms whenever he could sneak away earthside for a session in places that never officially exist.

He didn’t think it pride to consider it some of the most beautiful things he’d ever invented.

3\. It had been the style at college, now it was kind of a joke, the burst of colours on the inside of his wrists. Virgil liked how he could nod and smile at strangers who had similar patterns, a recognition of a shared time and place.

He knows people think he must regret making something so common a part of him forever, but truth be told? He really doesn’t.

He likes the anchor to his past.

4\. Everyone knows about the rings on his shoulder; there was a magazine spread about them, after all.

The rings are torn and tattered now, the skin riven with white scars where they patched him back together. Gordon is glad he’s not the kind of guy to overextend a metaphor.

But it feels good to lie back in the chair, feel a pain of his own choosing as he etches a new chapter of his story onto the unscarred skin of his thigh.

5\. Alan’s chewing his thumb, hesitating.

The rational part of his brain is telling him, if he’s hesitating that means don’t do it. Tattoos are permanent, and who knows what the others would say if they caught him here.

“Alan?”

But he guessed he was about to find out. “Hey, guys, I was just, uh, going for icecream?”

Shit, it’s Scott _and_ John. He might have had a chance getting away with just one, but both together was an unfair overwhelming advantage. “Alan, were you about to go get tattooed?”

He winced, but had learned the hard way that the best way out was through. “Yes?”

They share a look, then nod, that weird older sibling telepathy again. “Come on then,” John says, taking him by the shoulder.

“Do you know what you want?” Scott adds, reaching for the door.

Alan has the drawing of the star folded in his pocket. “Yeah.”

“Okay then, we’ll hold your hand,” Scott says and the girl behind the counter smiles and gets her station ready.

“We’ll even go for icecream after,” John adds and Alan lifts his head and reaches for the hem of his shirt.


End file.
